"Capital! Capital!" cried _Mr. Punch_, approaching the throng. "We'll have that again." He turned his ring once more as he spoke, and the mob responded by shouting their second verse. "Fool! Mercurius! Of greed thy sons are slaves; And they ever, ever, ever-- Shall be knaves!" "Come," cried _Mr. Punch_, "I think that judgment of themselves out of their own mouths settles the matter! I have done with them. Come, let us seek some healthier place. Up we go!" He seized hold of Old Father TIME as he spoke, and bounded with him upwards suddenly into space. In another minute they were in search of a brighter, a better, and a truer world. [Illustration] * * * * * VISIT TO JUPITER. Father TIME with his glorious guide dropped gently down. They found themselves in the centre of a bare expanse of dry, grassy country, broken here and there by sand-hills. On their right was the sea, dotted with ships. Parties of men in red coats, and carrying in their hands curiously-shaped sticks, were walking about in all directions. They all looked very earnest, some of them were gloomy, some positively furious. Occasionally they stopped, placed themselves in an uncouth straddle-legged attitude, whirled their sticks, looked eagerly towards the horizon, and then marched on again as solemnly as before. One party in particular attracted the attention of Father TIME. It was a large, mixed gathering of men, and women, and children. They all moved or stood at a respectful distance from the central figure, a benevolent-looking gentleman, with a flowing white beard. He too wore a red coat, and carried a stick. A crowd of attendants bearing more sticks followed him. [Illustration] "Let me explain," said the Arch-Provider of Merriment to his companion, "this ground is known as Links; the game of 'Golf' is being played. These gentlemen are golfers. The sticks they carry are called clubs. That bearded old gentleman is the King of Jupiter, FOOZLER THE FIFTH. He is playing his morning round. I will introduce you." So saying, the King of all Clubs advanced with the Scythe-holder, and, taking advantage of a moment when King FOOZLER, having made a long shot, was in good humour, rapidly effected the necessary presentation. "I know this game well," said _Mr. Punch_. "It is said to be much played in my own country now. Permit me to have the honour of playing one hole against your Majesty." The King smiled a gracious assent. His ball had been already placed for him on a little heap of sand about an inch high. He advanced towards it, anxiously measured his distance, waved his club to and fro over his ball as if in blessing, and then, swinging it through the air, struck--nothing. The ball remained unmoved. "He's missit the globe," muttered one of the attendants; "I've aye tellt him to keep his eye furrmer on the ball."